Silence and Sorrow
by Rosssse
Summary: Tag to Sex and Violence. End of episode. Tensions are high between Dean and Sam, so the car journey couldn't get worse could it? Hurt!Dean, Hurt!Sam, Full of Angst and Wincest. *NEW* Part 1 of chapter four is up. Sorry for the delay - I have exams atm :D
1. Silence

**Silence and Sorrow  
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**Angsty twoshot. Dean and Sam have a very awkward ride home... until it just gets so much worse. **

**Enjoy the angstiness :D**

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Silence****  
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"So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Dean frowned and looked down into his beer. Sam glanced at him; his brother's face brooding and unreadable: he knew that he hadn't believed a word of it, things we're far from what they should be, and they both knew it. Sam considered saying something but Dean just wordlessly walked round to the driver's side and started up the Impala's engine.

Sam sighed, reluctantly joining Dean in the car, knowing that the second the door closed, there would be silence; Dean shutting himself off, getting lost inside his head as usual – the conversation closed.

Of course, Sam knew he'd brought on himself. Under the siren's spell, Dean just let out that he was feeling betrayed and confused and tired of the lies, while Sam ripped into his brother about how weak he was, how useless and, and...

Sam shuddered, the sickening twinge of guilt churning his stomach and threatening to make him hurl. He clenched his jaw, shit, he was an awful brother; Dean wasn't weak, he went to hell for Sam for God's sake! He just cared about him so much that he wanted to finish it all, to keep Dean safe and if that meant getting his hands dirty, he'd do it. Sam's eyes flitted to the road, the landscape thinning as they drove out of town; he wasn't even sure where they were headed.

Dean meant the world to him, it was only his aggravation and stress of the impending apocalypse that had made him think some pretty stupid things and it was just his luck that some of those words were the ones the siren dragged out of him; he knew, deep down they'd meant nothing, but how could he get Dean to see it? After all his "trust me"s and lies how could he make him believe it?

"I don't think you're weak Dean." Sam blurted out before he could stop himself, regretting it as soon as it left his lips. He looked down and coughed, the floor becoming suddenly more interesting.

Dean seemed distant, not really listening, "Nice to know," he replied blankly, his eyes gazing off into the distance.

Sam's heart twinged, his insides recoiling. He felt nauseous in a way he'd never felt before and craved to get out of the car and walk around, to steady his spinning head. He almost asked, but he thought better of it, Dean might just drive off without him and never come back. So what if Sam knew Dean was afraid he'd leave him again? He wasn't so sure if that would make a difference now – his brother, the brother he really did idealise, hated him and nothing meant anything anymore.

Self-loathing suddenly overwhelmed him, he hated his very skin, the blood he couldn't wash out, the demon they were both scared he'd become. Sam dug his teeth into his bottom lip, biting until he tasted the metallic tang of blood; that bastard demon's blood mixed with his own. It took the edge his off his anger, but it was still coursing through him - his brother still hated him, or worse, he just didn't know him anymore – he'd said as much. Or should Sam really take that word for word? Was that just his frustrations or was that real? What he'd said, it didn't mean a thing but Dean had every right to feel used and deceived. He's spent 40 years down below and all Sam could do was hurt him more, at a time when he needed him most.

He licked his split lip bitterly and shoved his hands roughly into his trouser pockets, his phone bumping dully against his right-hand knuckles. He switched it off discreetly, before resting his face on the cool window, half watching the slowly darkening scenery blur past until he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

_Sam was 21 again, his bags packed and leaving for college. Neither Dean nor John would talk to him; but he knew how this played out, it was his memory after all. He loaded his bags up into his arms and onto his back before walking out the door, brushing past his brother silently. They stepped onto the driveway, standing awkwardly for a moment, Sam turning away first, as he'd done the first time round. He turned to the road when an arm grabbed his roughly._

"_What are you doing here?" Dean shouted, anger and fear twisting his expression._

_Sam panicked, this wasn't how it went, he was meant to leave, without a word and yet Dean looked as if he'd never seen Sam in his life._

_Dean suddenly shoved him backwards, a knife glinting in his hand._

_Sam panicked, "It's me Dean, it's Sam, Sammy! You're little brother, De–"_

"_Stay away, stay away from us!" Dean yelled pushing him harder; Sam falling over his bags, tripping and landing against the car. He picked himself up, catching his reflection in the window, a pair of bright yellow eyes staring back._

_His dream blurred..._

_Uriel glared at him, "The only reason you're still alive Sam Winchester is because you've been useful. The moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you're worth; one word, one, and I will turn you to dust."_

_His dream blurred..._

_A demon sat bound in a devil's trap, a malicious grin plastered across the human's face that he was wearing. "Go on Sam, tell us about all the things you and your demon bitch do in the dark, go on, hero."_

_Sam's jaw clenched in anger and seconds later he was in mid flow of exorcising it back to hell, the demon bent over and retching its soul out through its mouth._

_He finished and Sam smiled, this power felt good and he was improving._

"_Can you explain this then, Sam? If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you."_

_He turned confused; this wasn't how it went..._

"_I can explain, Dean, I'm sorry–"_

"_Go on Sam, tell us about all the things you and your demon bitch do in the dark, go on, hero," Dean snarled and turned to leave._

"_I can ex–_

_His dream blurred..._

_Dean was gripping his arm, tears in his eyes, "...if I don't stop you he will," Dean finished looking grave. He gripped harder, shaking him slightly, "Sam, hey Sam..."_

"_What I'm right here Dean," he looked incredulously..._

"...Sam, wake up, we're out of gas. I don't know how..." he paused, unreadable once more.

Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes and stretching, he took a moment to remember where he was. He glanced at his brother, wondering what he'd meant, but Dean was already out of the door. So that was it, conversation closed again.

Sam sighed, "So we're stuck here then..."

_****_

"So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Dean frowned and looked down into his beer. He could see Sam glancing at him in his periphery, a typical expression across his face that knitted his eyebrows together in concern. Nope, he hadn't believed a word of it either and they both knew it. Things we're definitely far from what they should be and letting it all out, if accidently, had only worsened the situation. Anyway, Dean wasn't about to divulge anymore of his misgivings since they only came back to haunt him later, it seemed.

Sam looked on the verge of saying something so Dean turned and walked away round to the driver's side of the Impala, the quickest way to end a pointless talk before it even started and the longer the facade lasted, the easier things could be. He swallowed the last of his beer and started the engine up gladly, the promise of driving his Impala calming his uneasiness a little.

Sam joined him in the car, silent but looking more anxious than before as they set off. Dean tried to ignore it and drove onwards even faster than usual, wanting to get as far away as possible from the wretched town and all the troubles it had caused them.

It had hit him hard; Dean confessed to himself; he'd known his brother all his life and yet 'weak' was never a word he'd ever dreamed Sam would describe him as, but it cut the deepest. Deeper than any wounds or suffering he'd felt or seen in hell, it chilled him right to the bone. Along with being called physically and mentally worse; fearful even, well, it was as if Sam had spat in his face.

But he didn't hate Sammy, admittedly not one bit; it was just the betrayal, the sadness he felt, the way it crushed him; how his little brother was the only one he could really trust and with it thrown back in his face, it stung and he felt defenceless – scarily vulnerable for the first time in his life. If Dean was being completely honest with himself, he was afraid to talk to Sam, afraid what might come out, angry or sad.

"I don't think you're weak Dean." Sam blurted out while Dean pretended to be watching the road. He looked down, coughing; Sam seemed surprised he'd even said anything.

"Nice to know," Dean replied, unable to look at Sam or find the necessary sarcasm to make it a joke. His own words sounded bitter and cold but he couldn't bring himself to fix it; too confused – was that real or was Sam just trying to make him feel better? Dean's words hadn't been lies, just frustrations; didn't that mean Sam's had to be real? True, Dean had never expected Sam to say the things he said, but he's been doing a lot of unexpected things at the moment.

He frowned, deciding instead focusing on the familiar grip of the Impala as its tires sped further past the town's outskirts; the hum of the engine helping him to clear his head and concentrate his thoughts.

For a brief moment he glimpsed at Sam; he was staring out of the window, brooding, by the looks of things. Damn it, was Dean really that much of a burden to him? Of course, stupid question, Dean's always been in the way for Sammy, since college, since he'd made that deal with the cross roads demon, since Lilith got his contract, even when he'd died... and now he's back, Dean's back, when Sam was finally rid of this extra weight; getting between Sam and Ruby and his demonic powers and their fight with Lilith – hell, Dean didn't have a clue why Sam hadn't already left.

His gut suddenly hurt – Sam leaving – now that scared Dean; at the moment when he really needed Sam and... well, when hadn't he needed Sam? They were and always had been a team and Dean missed it, the jokes, and the simplicity of it all; without having any divine interference or end of the world to deal with.

Most of all though, Dean missed his Sammy; the thoughtful, nerdy Sam who always had his back and was his partner in crime; fighting the supernatural and really weird together. He seemed to have outgrown Dean during his months down below: tougher, less compassionate, darker.

He glanced at Sam again; he was asleep, his head resting limply against his shoulder and the window. Dean smiled; now that was Sammy, his sleeping face the same as it'd always been since Dean could remember, apart from the slight frown that bent his brow.

"It's me Dean, it's Sam, Sammy. You're little brother..." he mumbled unexpectedly.

A memory flashed in Dean's head suddenly...

_The room was quiet except the slight crackle of the fire every now and again. It was just a couple of minutes to midnight but Sam had fallen asleep across the sofa opposite the hearth without Dean noticing._

_There was just a minute to go, Dean went to wake up his little sleeping brother; John wasn't home, he was off somewhere, another job, he'd said, and Dean didn't want to be alone to count down to the New Year._

"_Sam," He whispered, nudging him a little, his voice breaking the soft silence._

_Sam grinned, the flames turning Sammy's face a bright flickering orange, "...he's my big brother and I love him," he murmured, grabbing Dean's hand and holding it tight._

_Dean smiled his heart swelling with pride. He rested his head close to his brother's and sat on the floor. His watch beeped twice; "Happy New Year," he whispered in Sammy's ear, squeezing his small hand; Dean wasn't alone–_

The dashboard started bleeping, the fuel symbol flashing an angry red.

"What?" Dean said taken aback, tapping the panel angrily; how could he have missed the gas getting this low? He sighed, this wasn't happening, they were in the middle of nowhere.

Five minutes later the car engine spluttered, slowing down to almost nothing. Dean pulled off the road and parked, utterly perplexed at how he could have failed to spot something like that. He turned to Sam again who was still asleep; Dean was going to have to wake him up, God, how much more of an idiot did he want Sam to think he was?

He reluctantly leaned over, nudging him a little like he'd done so many years ago, Sam still mumbling, in his sleep.

"Sam, hey Sam, Sam, wake up, we're out of gas. I don't know how..." Dean closed his mouth and got out of the car; he didn't think he could handle Sam's disappointment right now.

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** Thanks for reading - ****Reviews are much appreciated!**

**(Next chapter up too)  
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**xxx  
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	2. Sorrow

**Sorry it took a bit but IT'S UP! If you knew how much effort this was to write...**

**Also, THIS ISN'T THE LAST CHAPTER!  
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**ENJOY! **

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Sorrow  
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Sam stared out into the twilight through the car window, waiting for his cell to pick up. It had been twenty minutes since Sam had woken up and he was having no luck trying to find someone to tow the Impala, not at this time anyway. He could see Dean lying back on the dry grass with a bottle in hand, sipping silently in the half-light. He smiled sadly; the way the moon bleached Dean's skin and hair milky white made him looked like some maverick angel; fierce, beautiful and more righteous than the real angels he'd met.

He frowned, the call going to voicemail; this was going be a hell of a long night. Sighing, he put the phone down, ignoring the messages from Ruby and got out of the car, grabbing a couple of beers and heading over to Dean, even if he wouldn't talk.

"Looks like we're here for the night," Sam began, stretching out next to Dean on the ground and handing him a second beer, hoping he would say something after his feeble attempt at starting afresh, "There's nothing round here; no one's available until the morning."

Sam glanced across at his brother, unsure what to do as Dean continued to watch the night sky, seeming to ignore him. Sam cringed, this wasn't getting anywhere; maybe it was best just to go back to the Impala.

"What were you dreaming about?" Dean suddenly asked, still looking upwards.

"What?" Sam replied, confused, how did he know about that?

"Before I woke you up, you were talking in your sleep... you said something like: 'I can explain' and 'It's me Dean, it's Sammy. You're little brother,'" Dean at last glimpsed up at Sam, a knowing expression in his eyes: Sam was aghast, when had started doing that? He thought Dean was one who sleep talked... Sam looked down; he remembered the dreams but he desperately didn't want Dean to know that he'd seen himself as a demon; he couldn't stand seeing anymore shame in his brother's eyes. Biting his lip he realised there could be no more lies, even if it simply made it all worse, making Dean hate him even more.

Sam sighed and looked away, directing his gaze towards the silhouette of the Impala; "There were a few dreams, but there was a main one," he paused, "I was about to leave for college again, when you and Dad wouldn't talk to me; remember?" Sam began, turning back to Dean and smiling uncertainly; giving him a last look - doubting he'd be able to look him in the eye again when this was all over. Dean nodded slowly, his half-hearted smile making Sam's chest tight; God he'd give so much not to have to do this!

"Well..." he looked away, "it was just how it was, but then you started threatening me and pushing me and you had a knife." Dean looked suddenly sickened, "no, no! Wait, there's more," Sam added hastily; "basically, I saw my reflection and... and I had yellow eyes Dean." Sam stared down at his hands, disgust and shame stifling any extra words in his throat; his heart aching.

"I'm turning into a demon," he managed to choke out bitterly, loathing himself and the impossibility of the whole situation. If Sam could just give it up and be normal he would but keeping Dean safe, even if he hated him, was his priority. His stomach lurched; God, if that wasn't so damn painful...

"No you're not," Dean replied resignedly, "you're not even close. You care so much, Sammy, about everyone, but you're stuck and making the hardest decisions of your life in the worst damn situation you could've been given." Sam looked up; Dean hadn't said this much since... since he was under the siren's spell. And, it didn't make any sense; Dean hated him, why wasn't Dean blaming him?

He spoke again, "If anyone's a demon, it's me Sammy, the things I did, the things I saw... there aren't words–"

Sam erupted; when would Dean forgive himself? "And that's not your fault! Anyone else would have done it, they would have given in straight away but you held out, Dean! Don't you see? You went to hell for me, and I practically danced on your grave! Also, you're right, I'm not the Sam you used to know because I've screwed you over so many times more than any proper brother really would!" He jumped up and threw his beer bottle furiously into the darkness; the sharp smash of glass echoing into the silence.

"So you lied a couple of times, big deal! All I'm thinking about is me while you're trying to stop the end of the world. You're trying to fix things and I'm just being weak." Dean ended bluntly, glaring at the ground.

"Oh yeah, that's why an angel is threatening to stop me while one bothered to actually pull you out of hell." Sam replied sarcastically. He turned away, exasperated to the point of madness, what was Dean even up to? "I don't get it Dean, I thought you hated me? It hurt to say that out loud, "You should hate me, but that's beside the po–"

"Sammy." Dean cut him off, picking himself up from the grass. He stared Sam fiercely in the eye, "I don't hate you."

"Then why do you still believe that I think you're weak?" Sam cried angrily, searching his brother's face. This was ridiculous, how could he have done this to Dean; cut him down when he was the strongest man he knew?

"Because you're my little brother and I can't hate you, Sam; whatever I believe. As much as I want to; as much as I'm trying to push you away, I can't lose you, not again." Tears filled Dean's eyes and Sam could see his jaw clench tightly. Sam's eyes stung; seeing Dean's pain tormented him, how could he get his brother to see that he loved him and there was nothing, not one bit of truth in what he'd said? He was so angry, so hurt; and after all his lies, was there even a way?

"Dean," he said, feeling a cool teardrop trickle down his cheek, "I know I don't deserve this, but please, I need you to trust me, to understand; if just this once. I didn't mean any of it Dean; you've got to believe me." Sam begged, Dean's face twisting with grief.

"Oh Sammy, I want to but–" He sobbed once, and Sam's heart fluttered horribly in his chest, "I don't know how to trust you. And you and Ruby–"

"There is no, 'me and Ruby'" Sam shouted.

Dean smiled through his tears, "you love her Sammy,"

"She's a demon, Dean!" Sam yelled back incredulously, "Of course I don't! Why won't you get it? I fucking love you and I need you. Trust me!–"

"How?!" Dean yelled, grabbing Sam by the shirt and jerking him forwards.

Sam closed his eyes, silenced for a second. He could feel Dean's hands on his chest and warm breath on his face, soothing him unexpectedly: he hadn't realised how much he'd missed their casual closeness, the touch he'd not felt since before Dean died. Shuddering, Sam remembered the feelings from the four months when Dean was gone; the way he felt nothing was good anymore. Admittedly, Ruby had saved him; but Sam was only thankful in the way that meant he'd been alive to see Dean again. Opening his eyes, he gazed at his brother; his exhaustion and pain hurt Sam so much; he just wanted everything to stop.

He sighed, "When you were dead, it felt like a piece of me died. It was like someone had ripped me apart but somehow, I was still breathing." He bored into Dean's moist green eyes, "And the thing is, you say I've changed, well, the way I felt, the anger inside me... it drove me to hunt Lilith, to avenge you, to bring you back. I'm not the Sam you knew because I lost you Dean, but one thing that won't change is, for Christ's sake, I love you."

Everything felt clearer and calmer for the first time in weeks and the moment crystallised in his head.

"I miss you," Sam said quietly, leaning in.

Dean's lips parted slightly.

_****_

Dean watched as the stars slowly got brighter. It was calm out here in the semi-darkness, drinking and listening to the sound of nothing.

Well, almost nothing; Dean could hear Sam in the Impala calling different pickup companies, trying to correct his stupid mistake. Dean frowned; he still couldn't understand how he'd missed the gas being _that _low.

Then again, he had had a lot on his mind; he could still hear Sammy's little voice echoing in his head as if he was mocking him about how things had changed and would never be the same again.

The Impala door slammed shut and Dean heard the clink of beers getting closer behind him. He focused harder on the stars above him, the way they pierced the heavens. Damn, God could be looking down for all he knew. Dean averted his gaze back down into his beer; so many of his beliefs had been torn up in his face recently; he hardly knew who he was anymore.

"Looks like we're here for the night," He heard his brother say, joining him. Dean sighed, what a great night they had ahead of them, no food, no beds, no normal. And that counted sleep talking. Sam handed Dean another beer. What had he meant by 'I can explain, Dean, I'm sorry–'? Was there more Dean didn't know about? Sam shifted uncomfortably as if he wanted to leave.

"What were you dreaming about?" Dean asked suddenly, hoping he'd keep this Sam with him longer since he hadn't got mad over the car.

"What?" Sam replied. He sounded confused; right, Dean realised, of course, why would he understand? He wasn't usually a sleep talker.

Dean explained, "Before I woke you up, you were talking in your sleep. You said something like: 'I can explain' and 'It's me Dean, it's Sammy. You're little brother,'" He looked up at Sam, his expression stunned and anxious. Dean caught his eye, willing him to tell him the truth. Sam looked away, thinking hard. Eventually he stared out into the distance, "There were a few dreams, but there was a main one," he began, "I was about to leave for college again, when you and Dad wouldn't talk to me; remember?" Sam turned and smiled uneasily. Dean nodded, pressing him onwards; he at least hadn't lost his stupid habit of dithering. Dean rolled his eyes as he turned away again, but in truth it relaxed him, something so familiar.

"Well, it was just how it was and then you started threatening me and pushing me and you had a knife." Dean flinched; couldn't he even do things right in Sam's _dreams_?

"No, no! Wait, there's more," Sam looked apologetic, "basically, I saw my reflection and... and I had yellow eyes Dean." He stared down at his hands, but Dean could still see his shame.

"I'm turning into a demon," He added, despairing into the floor.

Dean smiled bitterly; Sam hadn't a clue. Apart from the scary psychic crap, there was nothing vaguely demonic about him. "No you're not. You're not even close. You care so much, Sammy, about everyone, but you're stuck and making the hardest decisions of your life in the worst damn situation you could've been given."

Sam looked up, bewildered. Dean continued, remembering the tortures of hell, "If anyone's a demon, it's me Sammy, the things I did, the things I saw... there aren't words–"screams filled his head and for a moment he was absorbed into his living nightmares. Out of the two of them, Dean knew he was the monster.

"And that's not your fault!" Sam suddenly shouted, bringing Dean back, "Anyone else would have done it, they would have given in straight away but you held out, Dean! Don't you see? You went to hell for me, and I practically danced on your grave! Also, you're right, I'm not the Sam you used to know because I've screwed you over so many times more than any proper brother really would!" Sam stood up, launching his beer bottle into the darkness.

Dean watched as he paced, angry and frustrated. This was stupid, Sam was trying to do his best with what he got – how could he have expected Dean to come back? And of course it hurt, it hurt so bad that things had changed but at least Sam was trying to sort other things out."So you lied a couple of times, big deal! All I'm thinking about is me while you're trying to stop the end of the world. You're trying to fix things and I'm just being weak." The word stung in his mouth, even when he said it himself; knowing that Sam thought it too. His head hurt a little more; this would all be so much easier if he was able to hate Sam, but that was proving impossible.

"Oh yeah, that's why an angel is threatening to stop me while one bothered to actually pull you out of hell." Sam retorted, turning away. Dean frowned; maybe God did want him for something but–

"I don't get it Dean," Sam shouted suddenly. "I thought you hated me?" Dean saw the anguish in his eyes and Dean couldn't bear it. As much as he wanted Sam to feel bad, it hurt to see him this unhappy. "You should hate me, but that's beside the po–"

"Sammy." Dean said fiercely, standing up wanting more than anything to take that look off Sam's face. "I don't hate you." He wished he could though, Dean thought resentfully.

"Then why do you still believe that I think you're weak?" Sam asked angrily, looking as confused as Dean felt. He was so angry, why wasn't he able to hate him? Why weren't things simple?

Dean's eyes burned; the pain in his head and his heart becoming too much, "Because you're my little brother and I can't hate you, Sam; whatever I believe. As much as I want to; as much as I'm trying to push you away, I can't lose you, not again." Tears filled his eyes; the years he'd spent in hell, he'd missed Sam so much that if he had been able to die, he would have.

Dean stared up into Sam's dark green eyes, feeling awful as they began to glisten with tears as well and his face contorted with sadness; things were just getting worse. "Dean," Sam said, one large tear running down his cheek as he blinked. All Dean wanted to do was wipe it away and tell Sammy he didn't care, but he couldn't; they had to fix this, it just wasn't that straightforward. "I know I don't deserve this, but please, I need you to trust me, to understand; if just this once." Dean's head ached; this was impossible. "I didn't mean any of it Dean; you've got to believe me." Sam's voice was pleading; fuck's sake! If he only could!

"Oh Sammy, I want to but–" Dean choked on his own despondent sob; there was just so many reasons why it wouldn't work. For a start, they could be as sorry as they liked but there were still so many other things in the way that neither of them had any control over; Dean's divine duty, for one. Not to mention Ruby; Sam owed her his life and that was a huge debt he couldn't – and knowing Sam – wouldn't break. Dean's guts squirmed bitterly; it didn't help that they were getting down and dirty together. Jesus, a demon! It didn't matter, damn it, Sam loved her and he wouldn't stop listening to her, even if he tried. "It's just so hard. And you and Ruby–"

"There is no, 'me and Ruby'" Sam shouted suddenly, looking horrified.

Dean smiled, tasting salty tears; there was no point Sam lying to himself, Dean saw it and pretending it wasn't there was stupid, even though it burned to keep pushing Sam away, to see him so hurt, "you love her Sammy," he said finally.

"She's a demon, Dean!" He looked livid and scared, "Of course I don't! Why won't you get it? I fucking love you and I need you." Dean's heart throbbed, he thought he had everything figured but every time he rationalised, Sam threw something back harder and more painful to try and overcome... God, Dean loved Sam just as much; needed him maybe more! But this just wasn't–

"Trust me!–"

"How?!" Dean yelled; suddenly pulling Sam towards him, craving his touch, desperate to make him understand the grief and confusion that overwhelmed him.

Sam's eyes closed and he didn't speak, instead silence and stillness filled the air, Dean's head ringing and Sam seemingly deep in thought. Their faces were just inches from each other's; Dean could feel Sam's heartbeat through his shirt and it was unimaginably comforting through the doubt and agony that Dean had felt since, since... his death.

But the prolonged silence wasn't; it had broken the painful monotony of verbal pushing and pulling but the uncertainty of what was going to happen scared Dean; somehow he just couldn't face Sam ending it all and walking away, he'd tried to deny it but Dean needed him and being this close felt already better than how trying to hate Sam ever had.

Maybe Sam didn't love Ruby and Dean had just been trying to prove his point, but there was still so much at stake and wrong–

Sam shuddered, and Dean watched anxiously, wondering what Sam was thinking. If Sam was fighting the same battles that Dean had been, then he figured he was just as mentally worn out as he was. Sam eyes opening at last, searching Dean's face miserably.

He sighed and looked down at last; "When you were dead," he broke the silence, "it felt like a piece of me died. It was like someone had ripped me apart but somehow, I was still breathing." Dean's heart twinged, it hadn't been much different in hell, literally or metaphorically. "And the thing is, you say I've changed, well, the way I felt, the anger inside me... it drove me to hunt Lilith, to avenge you, to bring you back. I'm not the Sam you knew because I lost you Dean, but one thing that won't change is, for Christ's sake, I love you."

Fresh tears filled Sam's eyes and Dean felt too weak and perplexed to speak.

Sam leant closer, "I miss you," his soft words echoed in Dean's head until they were all he could hear and feel.

Dean parted his lips, nothing was the same anymore.

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**AHAHAH! **

**Please review!  
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**The wincesty chapter is still to be writen, seeing as I thought it deserved a whole chapter to itself!**

**Also, could someone help me decide whether I should do the pov thing for the next chapter or if that seems impossible at all?**

**Thanks xxx  
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	3. Sanctuary

**WAHHH! My third section is up at last and has a 'both at the same time' thing going on with the brother's heads...**

**I'm sorry it's taken so long but im _hoping _you like it... as you can see I just _couldn't _stop writing!**

**WARNING: This chapter is explicit - infact more than I intended it to be so WATCH OUT :D**

**Also, to anyone who cares - there will be one last chapter that is a kind of epilogue about the next morning x**

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Sanctuary** (Thanks to _necro omen13_ for that x)

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I miss you.

Gentle lips ghosted across Dean's sending shivers running down his back. He blinked hard, his eyelashes wet with tears and a hand reached up and cupped his face; tracing his jaw line with one rough thumb.

I miss you.

Dark hazel eyes stared into his, glistening wetly in the moonlight, the gaze burning with sadness and torment. Sam's mouth trembled on his and Dean instinctively deepened the kiss, pulling his warm body closer, anything to stop him looking like that.

I miss y–

Fuck. This was Sam.

Dean jumped back, pulling his arms away; his senses flooding back and realisation hitting them both.

Sam's eyes widened, jerking his hand away from Dean's face; when had kissing his brother ever seemed like the right thing to do? He opened his mouth but his breath caught in his throat – frozen in shock, waiting for Dean to rip him apart. So what if he'd kissed back? The look of surprise on his face made Sam sure it had been a mistake, hell, it was a surprise for him too – the urge to kiss Dean had been so sudden and strong, so unexpected.

He stared at Dean, begging him to do something, his stillness unbearable. How many more seconds were there to go before his frenzied anger, the punching and disgust? How many minutes before he left, revolted and cursing to high heaven? Sam's chest tightened painfully, eyes burning; Dean was going to leave him again, and it was his fault – like last time too. His jaw clenched, it was so wrong but had felt so right and he'd fucked up completely.

Dean's gut wrenched as he stared up at Sam, his eyes sparkling wetly and his angst so bluntly displayed on his face. He wanted to do something, but his head was reeling, unable to comprehend what had happened; everything had been so painful and then Sam had said he loved him – but differently, as something more than a brother...

"Dean..." Sam at last managed to choke out, trailing off as his voice cracked.

"It's fine," he tried to reassure him, but with little conviction: he was just too damn freaked; the next thing he knew, his little brother had kissed him and he'd kissed back. He looked away from Sam's sad, pained eyes; the scariest part was it had felt perfect; he'd felt safe in his brother's embrace and against his skin – it was so familiar and comforting it made his insides ache; he could hide from hell in Sam's arms.

Sam turned away, unable to bear the tension any longer or look at Dean's pained expression; "I'm sorry," he mumbled dazedly as he started to walk away into the night.

Fear bloomed in Dean's stomach, Sam wasn't leaving; he couldn't just–

Without thinking, Dean grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him back round, holding his tense body close and pressing his mouth hard against Sam's. He was unyielding for just a moment before relaxing into Dean; their teardrop moistened lips melting into each other's and exchanging a heated, hesitant kiss.

Sam's dejection dispelled instantly, needing escape from his endless tribulation and yearning to drown in Dean's embrace. Lips meeting again, his older brother's firm grip released from his arms, one hand gradually sliding under his t-shirt making him shiver and the other cupping his face, Dean's fingers running along his jaw line with a surprising tenderness. Sam responded automatically, hooking one finger into the loop of his brother's jeans and drawing him closer, craving his proximity.

Dean reluctantly pulled his head away; drinking in every minute detail of Sammy's face as he withdrew slowly; the shining skin of small, faint scars; the slight shadow of stubble and his piercing hazel gaze, wild and fevered, blinking back moonlight.

"I said," Dean whispered hoarsely, "it's fine." He stroked the fading blemish of a tear track on his brother's cheek with his thumb affectionately, the skin soft and reddened.

Sam turned into Dean's hand, kissing it tenderly and making him grin, a crooked smirk just teasing at the edges of his mouth.

Sam beamed back; he hadn't seen his brother smile like that for a long time; this was the Dean he was scared he'd lost; the Dean he loved but didn't deserve.

Love... was it wrong for it to be more than as a brother? Hell, this was weird, maybe repulsive if it wasn't for the fact that being so close to Dean meant that for the first time since his death, Sam felt almost whole again – Dean didn't hate him though he should.

"This is pretty fucked up," Sam admitted seriously, unable to keep his worry to himself; gazing concernedly into his brother's hazel-green eyes and distractedly slipping his free hand around Dean's waist; resting it on the small of his back.

"Yeah..." Dean looked away, letting go of Sam's face and placing his hand round his brother's neck. God, this was so wrong, but it felt better, easier; for once he felt safe. Needed by Sammy at last.

Everything was still for a moment, and then slowly Dean ran his hand further up Sam's smooth torso; his younger brother's toned abs tensing satisfyingly as his fingers ghosted across his skin. He glimpsed back up smirking hugely; well, Sammy always was his bitch.

Sam rolled his eyes and scowled, trying in vain to not be affected by his brother's touch and boost his already inflated ego. Dean angled his head up, his mouth tantalisingly close to Sam's own. Out of habit, he ran his tongue over his lips, almost making Sam lose control and sink into their delicious fullness. Managing to pull away, he titled his head up, bringing Dean's eyes level with his chin.

Dean raised an eyebrow sceptically; Sam was up to something – he only used that full and irresistibly loveable smile on bitter old nightshift waitresses or right before...

Oh he got it.

Scowling, Dean shook his head, "that's just mean, Sammy," he said, mock hurt and refusing to get on tip-toes for Sam's kisses, as hungry as he was for them.

"Who's the little bitch now?" Sam leered jokingly, lifting his chin up even higher, beaming as Dean's signature smile broke through again.

"Oh, you're asking for it," Dean shook his head again, hooking one foot behind Sam's leg and yanking; tripping his brother over backwards to land flat in the dry grass with Dean on all fours over him.

Sam groaned, winded and his back aching. He opened his eyes to see Dean looming just inches from his face, "Son of a– Dean you dick, that was not necessary. I was joking." He raised himself up onto his elbows, wincing as his back twinged.

"Yeah well, you know that's a sore spot," Dean smirked, "but," he closed the gap between them, his lips finally brushing on Sam's irresistibly swollen pair, "if this helps..." he pressed his mouth firmly into Sam's and pushed him back down before running his tongue lightly over the line where his lips met and reaching deeper into his mouth; exploring his enthralling taste and texture.

Sam let Dean roam and then steadily fought back, eventually forcing his way through Dean's lips, searching hungrily with his tongue as well as his hands; sliding under Dean's t-shirt, running along his spine and curling around his neck.

His fingers scratched long and lethargically into the short bristly hairs at the back of Dean's head, and unexpectedly his jaw went limp against Sam's mouth, his back arching reflexively.

Sam pushed Dean away and sat up; confused as he shivered and slowly regained his composure.

"What the hell was that?" He grinned bemusedly; Dean's eyes refocusing.

"You have magic hands, Sammy," he admitted surprised; absentmindedly lacing his fingers together with Sam's, wishing they were still running through his hair.

He smiled, "Dude, you're a fucking cat or something. No one does that you freak."

"Oh so _I'm_ the freak now, am I?" Dean smirked teasingly; realising what he'd said too late.

Sam tensed suddenly; his body stiffening and his eyes flickering to the ground.

Dean kicked himself mentally, "shit, Sam, I'm sorry; you know I didn't mean that it just–"

"Don't worry, it doesn't matter."

"No, Sam, really, it just slipped out and I'm sorry." he said; trailing kisses up Sam's neck and along his jaw, each one an anxious plea of forgiveness.

Sam turned and looked up, catching Dean's lips full on his mouth and kissing him hard and desperately; pulling away after just a second and gazing deeply into his worried eyes.

He squeezed Dean's hands reassuringly; God, his older brother sure was pretty when he was being serious. Scared, thankful, sad or relieved; Sam had seen it all in under an hour. Then again, the expression Dean wore when he was perfectly content; every worry line and every trace of fear gone... well; then he was beautiful. Sam was just a freak and Dean should hate him.

He sighed bitterly, "I just want to be normal; so, being reminded that I'm never going to be that..." Sam glanced away, staring down, "That's why I'm doing it," he strained, "Using my... powers to save people, to help. I figured that you can't define good and evil by what something or someone is because–," he choked on his words, "if it's not what you do, you may as well kill me right here and now."

"Don't you dare say that to me Sammy," Dean hissed, grabbing his brother's chin and tilting it up so he could see his brother's face, as if staring hard enough into his eyes might make Sam see how distressed he was, how much it hurt to hear him say that.

The depth of Dean's raw emotion shimmered in the faint moonlight and Sam felt guilty for being so reckless with his words; their father's still a heavy burden to him. "Sorry," he whispered against Dean's lips, tasting his warm breath and looking away.

Dean saw Sam's sorrow and his expression softened, regretting his harshness. He pressed into Sam; kissing him tenderly "Me too," he smiled sadly, affectionately sweeping his brother's too-long hair out of his eyes; damn that kid needed a haircut.

Sam smiled back thankfully, but he had heard the hidden meaning behind those words. Fuck, this wasn't fair on Dean, he deserved so much better. Swallowing hard, he reluctantly drew back from his brother, turning his head away, trying hard not to look back at his concerned expression.

Dean stared anxiously at Sam, his hand tightening in his brother's hair.

"Sammy... what's wrong?" He asked tensely, His brother's jaw clenching as Dean's fingers released, brushing down his cheek gently.

He stared into the distance, the muscle in his cheek working furiously. "I don't understand," Sam said at last, resentfully; his eyes stinging wetly; "Why don't you hate me?" he turned back suddenly, staring into Dean's face searchingly, his brother's warm hand cupping his cheek.

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head; "Sammy... don't start this again..." Jesus. Why did Sam have to bring this up? Dean wanted to but couldn't hate him and yet Sam wouldn't count his blessings and let it drop. He sighed inwardly; but this was Sammy – he never took the easy way out; not where he was concerned it seemed.

"I don't want to, but I can't help it, Dean – It's still there." He blinked and a tear escaped down his cheek, "You know you should hate me and there are so many reasons." He pulled his hand out of Dean's, balling it into a fist and glancing away from his older brother's raw, tender eyes – Damn it! Dean made everything so hard; the way his emotions blazed across his face in pain and fear and gratitude, beautiful yet devastating to look at.

Dean's thumb wiped away his tear and he glimpsed back up again, his brother's face stilling burning with worry and apprehension. "It's the way you look at me," Sam murmured finally; "Like now. As if I'm normal – as if I'm worth something. It scares me, Dean; that you don't seem to care what I am; that I might be allowed to have someone like you."

Dean angrily gripped Sam, kissing him hard and furiously, his nose crushing against his younger brother's and his free hand fisted in his shirt. Sam fought against him, pulling back roughly, leaving both him and Dean breathing heavily, eyes darting around restlessly.

Dean stared at Sam, seething, "For a college boy, you are one stupid son of a bitch," he said through gritted teeth, hiding his fear and pain with anger. Dean tugged on his brother's shirt violently, his face just an inch from Sam's and his words exploding into desperate shouts; "You think you're worthless? You think I would even have the fucking right to care who you are if I wanted to? If anything, I'm lucky to be _allowed_ you. You don't have a clue what it's like to be truly merciless, evil, to enjoy other people's pain and to know you did willingly for years. You have no idea. Sammy, I don't fucking understand why _you _don't hate _me_ when I don't even deserve to be here. I'm the fucking freak; the demon–" His voice cracked, tears making his vision swim; distorting Sam into watery obscurity and the shadows of hell bloomed into view.

Sam grabbed his brother suddenly, his cheek pressed hard against Dean's; horrified as his body turned weak in his arms; Dean Winchester undone. "You're not," Sam whispered into his ear, holding him tight and refusing to let his older brother breakdown on him, knowing that Dean would never forgive himself for being vulnerable as much as Sam didn't care.

"Although, I am an idiot – I guess it's just shock, or denial. To have this... to have _you_..." Dean could hear his brother smiling despite himself, Sam's lips brushing against the back of his jawbone, "but you need to realise it's not your fault."

"I can't Sammy," he breathed back, locking his arms around his younger brother, "you can't even begin to try and understand, so don't."

Sam's pulled his head back until both their noses were just touching; his hands reaching up and holding Dean's face gently; his expression imploring and sad – like a damn puppy's. Dean sighed, ashamed at his weakness as the wetness of his cheeks pressed against Sam's fingers, "Come on; don't look at me like that; you know I can't say no to that kinda look," he smiled feebly; "But I'm not joking about this shit, I'd tell you if I could but there's no way you can–"

Sam cut him off, tired of Dean's crap; kissing him hard and sucking and pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth and sliding one hand into his brother's hair, soft and tousled.

Dean gave into the kiss, growling softly and pushing into Sam, relaxing his firm grip and slipping Sam's open shirt off his shoulders, suddenly yearning to feel skin on skin, naked and smooth; one doomed flesh against another.

Sam broke away, pulling his t-shirt over his head before lifting Dean's off too. For just a moment they both paused, almost touching, eyes grazing over each other's bare bodies, his older brother's skin bleached pale by the moonlight. He shivered, remembering suddenly the last time Dean had looked so ashen...

_Sam threw his spade down into the mud, hands bleeding and blistered; soaked to the skin in rain and plastered in mud._

_Yet, what did he care? He couldn't feel a thing._

_And now it was finished; a hole in the ground like any other._

_He clambered out, ignoring how his back seared in pain, angrily sweeping his muck filled hair out of his face. _

_He paused out of habit, waiting for a wise crack about how no one took a fed seriously with a haircut like that; wishing for a Sammy-you-look-like-a-damn-girl joke. He laughed bitterly, collapsing into hysterical sobs; of course it never came, there would never be another damn joke. Choking, his knees gave way into cold, soaking mud; his hands fisting into thick peaty soil, shameless tears flowing like the rain that shouldn't ever cease and yelling hoarsely along with the storm until he didn't know – didn't want to know – whether he was still screaming or if it was just the world grieving with him._

_Steadily rain blurred into everything, into his skin, into his eyes, his voice, clothes and he fell limp in the dirt... why didn't he just wash away with the rain too?_

_His body grew cold and stiff, but slowly he blinked open his eyes, knowing deep down that he had to finish this as much as it killed him, he'd promised Bobby he'd be able to do it if he did it alone._

_Clearing his face, he sat up; accidently glimpsing something across from the pit that made him ache in every inch of his body. He turned away, biting back tears but eventually his eyes betrayed him, unable to draw away from the crude six foot something box that he'd managed to avoid the whole time he'd been digging, sodden and rigid and foreign._

_He inched slowly forward; painfully aware of what was inside but powerless to stop himself crawling nearer and nearer, his heart stifling in his chest as his hands brushed against rough wood and Sam's hands began to work mechanically, almost against his will; pulling the un-nailed lid off the coffin and bringing him into view._

_Sam fell weakly against the sides, crying out in agony as Dean lay motionless, still frozen in horror; cold and pale; his wounds covered by an old flannel shirt Bobby must have dressed him in. Uncontrollably, Sam reached out, stroking his brother's face, his skin like rubber and dotted with flecks of dark congealed blood and raindrops; hazel-green eyes glazed and staring back unseeingly. _

_A thin cord was pressed into Dean's skin, running around his neck and disappearing under his t-shirt. Sam's fingers held it and tugged the dark rope lightly, pulling the necklace out and laying it on his brother's still chest; tracing the wooden pendant and feeling its cold hardness closed in the palm of his hand._

_Carefully Sam reached behind Dean's neck, unclasping the cord and placing it round his own and down his shirt, Dean's throat strangely bare as the cold wood warmed to Sam's skin. He stroked the necklace numbly, the rope familiar even after so many years. It had been one distant Christmas and a present intended for John, instead given to his brother and now with him; painfully obvious and heavy with memories._

_Sam shuddered and glanced back at Dean; he looked so old and so young, trapped and free in his last moments of pain... he couldn't bear it – gently placing his two fingers on Dean's eyelids, he closed them for the last time. Sam cracked suddenly; breaking into frenzied tears that splashed onto his brother's petrified face and his eyes blurred, obscuring Dean into a hazy smudge – he could just be sleeping, his chest rising and falling peacefully, he was just sleeping, he had to be..._

Sam gasped suddenly, feeling his eyes burning and tears trickling down his face.

"Sammy, what's wrong...?" Dean's hand cupped his cheek, his face etched with concern and stroking the tears on Sam's face, his own still damp.

Sam reached out and placed his hand on Dean's chest – warm and heaving; his heart beating under his fingers – impossibly and wonderfully alive. Sam sighed with relief, slowly letting his fingers trace along the muscles on Dean's rippling abs up to his broad shoulders, making him breathe out raggedly, his gaze suddenly lusting and fierce. He reached the soft skin at the edge his brother's throat and Sam marvelled at how Dean couldn't be more living or more intoxicating to his senses; or how bad he'd missed him.

His fingers hooked onto the cord of Dean's necklace, its familiar texture drawing up raw memories of the four months he'd worn it himself as a sharp reminder; "I just remembered when... the day you... _burying_..." his words all seemed to stick in his throat and he looked away, more tears threatening.

Dean shook his head, realisation dawning on him. He sighed. Christ, why did Sam put himself through all that again? He suddenly pictured Sammy lying glassy eyed in a shallow grave and shuddered – well maybe burying his brother wasn't something he'd forget easily. "Shit, Sam, pick a more morbid subject; this isn't a competition you know..." he chided light-heartedly, trying to steer him away from such dark thoughts.

Taking his brother's face in his hands, Dean pressed himself into his perfectly warm and smoothly toned body; brushing his mouth over Sam's wet cheeks and lips, kissing the salty tears away.

"I missed you, Dean," Sam muttered, wrapping his arms around him, his brother's heartbeat throbbing through his skin and the pendant sharply pressing against his chest – but here he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Me too," Dean murmured, whispering his words with wet lips; remembering how everyday for forty years he'd prayed for Sam to save him, missing him with a sense of grief he'd never felt before until then. His brother's hands drifted down his back and he bit into Sam's lip lightly; yet it seemed somehow every time Sam touched him it didn't hurt so much.

Sam ran his fingers down Dean's spine as his brother nipped at his lips playfully; irresistibly raking his fingers through his hair and the look of desire glinting in Dean's eyes again – the way he grazed over Sam's body with an animal hunger making him press closer lustfully; wanting to lose himself in Dean.

Sam licked along Dean's bottom lip and purred huskily in the back of his throat. Dean felt his eyes widen a little – Hello – Kinky Sammy alert; now _this_ was more like it.

He grinned feverishly, crushing his mouth against his brother's and pushing Sam back down onto the grass – he could smell him, taste him, feel him; hot and warm and living – everything was Sam and everything was safe, engulfed in his huge arms.

Sam kissed deeper into Dean's mouth, feeling a familiar, warm heat building in his gut, along with a throbbing hardness building in his pants. Dean shifted his hips on Sam's instinctively, his own stiffness grinding into him, making him buck into his older brother.

Feeling his brother rigid against him, Dean's lips suddenly left Sam's; instead sucking and kissing along his throat and down his chest; licking and biting at his hard nipples; making Sam grip into his hair; groaning softly as Dean's hips moved off his. Travelling further down his torso, Dean ran his tongue over his brother's rippled abs and bit into the soft flesh near his hipbone, Sam's skin glistening with the lightest sheen of sweat.

Sam's breath shuddered and he stared dazedly up at the stars; his skin felt hot and fevered everywhere Dean had touched or kissed or bitten or stroked, the rest of him numb in comparison.

The fire travelled with Dean's tongue down to his jeans and stopped. Sam sat up slowly; panting heavily and apprehensively watching his brother unzip his jeans, Dean pulling the fly apart and tugging his pants down to his ankles. A tiny moan escaped from Sam's lips as his brother crawled back up his legs with an agonizing slowness; reaching up and only letting his teeth just tease at the waistband of his boxers, his back arching reflexively as Dean's chin just brushed his bulge through the thin material.

Dean licked the few wiry hairs that crept out of his brother's boxers, smirking hugely as Sam fisted his hands into the dry grass, his glare fevered, "Fuck Dean; will you just get on with it..." he growled, his voice breathy and exasperated.

Grinning silently, Dean carefully pulled Sam's shorts past his engorged cock, marvelling at how he'd made Sam completely hard without even touching him. He frowned suddenly, a little worried – _fuck it couldn't be bigger than his_...

Sam groaned again and Dean shook away such petty thoughts; closing a hand round the thick shaft and rubbing and stroking slowly at first, gradually building a steady, firm rhythm up and down; up and down; gently teasing his brother's balls with his other hand.

Sam whimpered Dean's name, his eyes shut tightly and his body tingling with pleasure; arms both weak and tense at once. Sam suppressed any premature urges, wanting this moment to stretch out for as long as possible as Dean increased his speed and he bucked into his hands, groaning louder before his brother stopped unexpectedly, making Sam glimpse back at his brother desperately, begging him not to be cruel.

"Dean... don't be a–"

"Hey; Sammy, don't worry, there's just something I've always wanted to try..." Dean had had it done enough times to him; it couldn't really be that hard, could it...?

His mouth lowered tentatively towards the head of his cock and Sam froze in realisation, Dean's warm breath making him tremble slightly.

"Prepare to be _blown _away," he smirked, before sinking his lips over the head, hovering cautiously for just a second and then suddenly swallowing Sam whole.

Sam gasped, his elbows giving way as Dean enveloped him in warm wetness; sucking and licking his cock hard and fast, every few strokes pulling all the way back and running his tongue over the slit.

Sam's eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack, arching and bucking and pressing harder into Dean; forcing him deeper into each downward length, almost choking him on the thick shaft as it reached further into his throat. One of Sam's hands found its way into Dean's hair again, and Sonofabitch! Sammy dug in hard. He pushed Dean's head forcefully down into his crotch, unable to hold it back any longer; firmly clutching him in deep with a _motherfucking_ iron grip as he came; Dean gagging and his mouth filling with Sam's hot, salty release.

He rolled over and collapsed, swallowing the saltiness and panting hard; maybe he'd think twice about teasing Sam as much next time – he liked rough but that was bordering on dangerous; he practically choked Dean on his damn cock for Christ's sake. He coughed, frowning; his throat raw as he lay sprawled in the grass next to his brother; eyes closed and catching his breath like Sam but burningly unsatisfied.

Sam sighed, heart slowing and body spent; head clearing as he shakily pulled his boxers back up. Sitting up gingerly, he slipped off his shoes, socks and pants; lying down again and marvelling with a newfound clarity at his Dean induced orgasm. He blinked up at the stars, the dry grass scratching at his legs, still in shock over the startling wave of pleasure that had washed over every corner of his body, better and deeper than any before.

"Wow," he said out loud, the one word encapsulating every thought perfectly.

"Mmm..." He heard Dean mumble next to him, almost sarcastically.

He turned over to his brother, faltering a little, "Huh?" He said, concerned and confused; Dean's eyes staring pensively up to the night sky, an amused smile playing at his lips.

"You need to be careful where you stick that," he replied hoarsely, dragging his eyes from the stars and staring pointedly at Sam, "or how you use it..."

Sam frowned bewilderedly, "Hey! But you– oh..." Dean smiled as Sam suddenly seemed to understand, the look of irrational guilt blooming on his face so much so he almost felt guilty himself.

Sam was on Dean in a second, kissing his swollen lips and fretting anxiously over him, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Shit I'm sorry–"

Dean grabbed his brother's looming face with a hand gripped over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. He laughed at his deer-trapped-in-the-headlights look, "Sammy, Jesus! Calm down," he moved his hand and pulled Sam's face nearer to his, kissing him long and tenderly. He broke apart slowly, grinning, "I'm just not that used to having cock in my mouth..."

Sam opened his mouth in protest; it wasn't _just that_ though, he'd gone crazy – a whole new dimension of losing control, the way Dean made him feel... it was amazing but–

"Aw Sammy, will you stop looking so worried," Dean said croakily; Sam frowning as he rolled his eyes. "Look; if you still feel bad then you could sort me out down there..." his eyes trailed over Sam's naked body, lust and renewed desire suddenly blazing fervently in his gaze.

Gentle lips touch his and Dean grinned, pressing harder into Sam's kisses, reaching into his mouth and hands in his brother's soft, soft hair; ignoring how his mouth burned against Sam's tongue.

Sam let his hand drift down his brother's torso, feeling his way blindly over his chest and stomach; muscles running under his fingers in waves and curves. His hand touched the edge of his jeans and Sam's lips left Dean's, undoing the zipper on his brother's pants and pulling them down along with his boxers – he didn't think he'd risk playing around with Dean, not if his own reaction was anything to go by. He bit his lip, ashamed; Dean had put up with pain for Sam's pleasure, he could have stopped but endured it just for him. Sam smiled, an idea dawning on him – maybe he'd return the favour...

Closing his eyes, Dean braced himself for hands – _huge _hands; hands that would hold him all at once; bring him to the brink and let him explode–

He gasped, eyelids fluttering; his hips pressed heavily down by something and his dick gripped like no other, crushingly held with such tightness. He sat up as much as he could; moaning as he felt himself go deeper into... Dean snapped his eyes open – into Sammy.

"Fuck. Oh _Fuck! _Sam, you didn't have to– _Jeeesus_," Sam pushed himself further down on Dean in dismissal, seemingly unable to speak; jaw clenched and hazel eyes wide. Dean grabbed his brother's hips suddenly, his fingers digging in hard as he fought to keep control, "'cause you need to be _fucking_ sure," he grit breathily, pushing even deeper into Sam and clenching every muscle to stop him from losing it.

Sam groaned, gasping as the head of Dean's cock at last pressed into the tight bundle of nerves up inside him. Grinning feverishly; he leant forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, kissing him and staring into his wild green eyes. "Do anything," he whispered simply, loving how his brother's pupils seemed to dilate even further.

He couldn't hold on any longer; Sam's words sending him over the edge. With a frenzied madness Dean began thrusting and sinking and pulling in and out of Sam's giant body, gripping his hips with a bruising hold, merciless to his whimpers of pain and revelling with him in his moans and cries of joy. Soon it became easier, just guiding Sam as he started to move with him, relaxed and stretched around him; his spent organ resting on his stomach.

Every second of smarting soreness was suddenly replaced with bliss, then soreness again, but less every time and rewarded by the same wonderful pleasure. Sam swallowed Dean all the way up to the hilt, smiling as the pain lessened to a dull ache and Dean could only grunt his appreciation.

He leaned into his brother, kissing his lips roughly and watching Dean's muscles ripple and flex with each thrust, his skin shining with perspiration. One of his hands let go of Sam's sides, instead pressing it flat against his chest before clenching slowly, Dean's nails digging in, making him hiss and leaving raw red marks.

Dean opened his eyes, half apologetic at the scratches and half incredibly turned on by Sam's growling; placating them both with a kiss that bit his teeth into his brother's lips.

He pressed his forehead into Sam's, breathing shakily as his body started to ache and the pleasure began to build; driving in harder and forcing even deeper than before; Sam moving with him through the newfound pain. Dean glimpsed down, seeing his brother hard again; "up again already?" he smirked, his voice a little too strained and breathy for the sarcasm to work; not that Sam seemed to mind as he closed his free hand round him, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Sam felt like he was on fire, "I think... I'm going... to die..." he whispered on Dean's lips as he increased his pace, both men forcing relentlessly into the other, moving closer to the brink with every push; fiercer and more violently than ever before.

Dean reached breaking point suddenly, yelling out his release as he filled Sam and unparalleled satisfaction surged through every inch of his body, leaving him shuddering; collapsed as Sam joined him; spurting onto his stomach.

Vision dazed and shaking, Sam pulled gingerly off Dean, trying in vain not to give way onto him; only just managing to move off him before his knees yielded beneath him and he collapsed too.

Dean grunted as Sam's shoulder bumped his; the silence augmenting and filled only with their hard panting, Sam's hot body rising and falling by his side. Dean sighed as eventually his breathing slowed and his arms stopped shaking; that had been one _hell _of a fuck, he ached all over and his cock felt red raw but it had been worth it. A smile broadened across his face that wouldn't go away; apart from being totally beat, he felt amazing – a weird contentedness he hadn't known for so long spreading through him.

Remembering the wetness on his abdomen, he groped around in the dark until he found his shirt, wiping the stickiness carefully off his stomach and pulling his boxers back up; discarding his shoes and pants just as Sam did before. He lay back down, staring up at the moon, what a night they'd been through...

Sam didn't dare move. He didn't even consider sorting out his nakedness; it was easier to stay still, nothing hurt, well not much if he just stayed still. He tilted his head just slightly, glancing down at Dean's hand and reaching his own out just a little, lacing their fingers together.

His brother rolled over at his touch, smirking at Sam's boxers, "too tired?" he asked, reaching down and pulling them up for him, grinning as he flinched; "or too painful?"

"_Tired_," he insisted, frowning; if he could he'd get Dean in a headlock right about now...

Dean lifted his free hand up in mock-defence, "Sure Sammy, whatever you say," he replied sceptically, smirking hugely but wondering inwardly if he'd given Sam a little too much payback for the first time round.

He stretched back out again, running the same hand down his brother's side and smiling triumphantly as Sam grabbed it, not letting it reach any further than his bruised hips.

"Really Sam?"

"Fine." He scowled, "It fucking _does _hurt okay? But the first time you bottom will be just the same–"

"_I think... I'm going... to die–_"

"Hey!" Sam looked hurt and Dean calmed him with kisses, long and deep. "You are so easy to bug, Sammy. You know I don't mean it."

Sam just glared back at his older brother before edging gingerly closer and resting his head on Dean's chest, deciding to give him the cold shoulder, though secretly pleased the old Dean seemed to be back – teases and all.

A hand knitted into his hair and he couldn't help but smile; so what if his arse ached like a bitch? He had his brother at last, heart beating in his ear and chest rising beneath him – things couldn't be much better.

Minutes past in silence. "You're quiet," He stated; it was unusual. "What are you thinking about?"

Dean grinned to himself, mussing his brother's hair, "That if there is a God up there, he's probably having second thoughts about dragging me out. I kinda doubt he was expecting this. Don't you think it's weird he might be watching us? Creeps me out..." He glanced up to the stars; scowling upwards; damn that was almost pervy.

Sam drew shapes casually on his brother's warm abdomen; lazily outlining every muscle, Dean's words humming in his chest against his ear; "Well _I'm_ glad you're back. And second thoughts or not, they need you, Dean; Castiel said so himself. There's more planned for you."

"You think?" Dean asked; more to himself than Sammy. This whole thing... it just didn't make sense, what made him so special? What terrible fate or test or job did the angels have for him that only he was able to fix? It couldn't be something good; it never was – why else would he be allowed this second chance after everything he did in the pit? He didn't deserve it and Dean was sure they'd make him pay.

His chest tightened a little; he'd cracked in hell, fallen and begun torturing for Alistair like his little bitch boy. He shouldn't be here; it was wrong and unfair – he'd sliced and hacked at so many souls it had turned into an art, their screams his muse; everyday spent down there refining his technique; slowly corroding his morality until he was numb. There were hundreds, no, thousands of better men who should've been saved and yet here Dean was; alive and breathing and worthless.

Eye's burning, he clenched his jaw; the memories just too raw and too dirty to ignore, opening out like a dark chasm inside him that threatened to swallow him whole if he didn't pull back now.

Sam frowned uneasily; Dean's breathing suddenly coming in sharp, shallow breaths as if he was struggling to keep control, trying not to cry.

"You alright?" He asked softy, nestling closer into his brother's body. Gently he kissed the clammy skin in between his ribcage, Dean's chest still rising and falling irregularly.

Sam's voice brought Dean back down. He closed his eyes; Sammy – focus on Sammy; the long dark hair in his hand, the broad, tanned back stretched out in front of him, the love that exuded from him in every word and every touch; the marks he'd left on Dean's physically and mentally ever since he was born, right up to the ache in his body that said he was Sam's and no one else's. His brother was his life and always had been. It was that simple, and that was why he was back; alive just for Sam.

His brother's breathing slowed and Sam didn't press Dean any further, just relieved. "Yeah," Dean whispered quietly, his hand rubbing down Sam's back, rhythmically circling as if he was a child.

_It was dark. _

_Everywhere was dark; shadows hugging his crib like monsters creeping slowly to get him, to snatch him away because he was alone._

_He wanted Dean._

_Fear gripped Sam suddenly; where was he? Tears filled his eyes and his throat burned with a held-back scream; did he dare cry, or would the darkness hear him first and swallow him up? His lip wobbled at the thought, he wished Dean was here to keep him safe. Nothing could touch him when he was around..._

_Wails burst from his mouth, yelling and screaming and sobbing and yanking his blanket over his head; giving Dean maybe a few seconds more to find him before the monster jumped out and surrounded him–_

_Big arms held him, scooping and hugging in one swift moment. Sam gasped in relief, sobbing into the warm shirt and breathing in a smell that shouted 'Dean!' and not daring to open his eyes until he felt soft mattress beneath him._

_He curled tightly into Dean's side; his brother's arm wrapped around and the blanket drawn up like a barrier, snivels dying as Dean hushed him; a hand rubbing circles on his back soothingly._

_Glimpsing up at Dean he was met by big green worried eyes, eyes that said, "Don't cry Sammy." He sniffed for the last time then, smiling; "Sorry," he whispered. He hadn't meant to make Dean upset, he was just scared and–_

"_No Sammy," he smiled back, "I'm sorry I left you alone; daddy says I have to keep you safe."_

_Dean looked disappointed somehow, but Sam was too tired to ask. He snuffled into Dean's shirt instead; the rhythmic circles and his brother's breathing making Sam's eyelids droop._

_The second before Sam's eyes closed for good, he realised something – it was still dark, but somehow Dean made him forget; sweeping away his monsters because they were safe; together forever. _

_

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_**So do you hate me, or have I done the first two chapters justice?**

**Please review because I've re-read this so many times I have no idea if I just wrote a load of bull or not :D**

**Thanks for waiting _again!_**

**xxxxx  
**


	4. Sunrise

**Here is a little teaser for you while I attempt the final chapter. It's a biggy and I'm taking it nice and slow.**

**But don't despair my faithful readers! It's coming.**

**So here is Dean, having a bit of a think in the early dawn.**

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Sunrise  
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Dean stirred.

Warmth enveloped his body; half heavy and familiar, and the other a light, tingling heat that bathed the rest of his skin. It was unimaginably comfortable.

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the growing light.

Sunrise.

He glimpsed into the distance, watching silently as the shimmering red sliver of sun rose over the horizon of the road, splashing light like blood across the land and over everything.

Remembering Sam, Dean glanced down; his brother's body limp against his, face buried in his chest and a hand grasped protectively on one arm. His breathing was slow with sleep and his cool breath tickled Dean as he exhaled. His broad expanse of back was illuminated by fiery red and Dean ran a hand down, almost expecting the colour to wipe of like paint. Gradually the glow faded, changing at first to a deep orange and then to a softer golden yellow as the sun climbed higher in the lightening sky.

He watched motionless for a while longer, the marvel of dawn and its perfect calm capturing him and not letting him look away. Fleeting and extraordinary as the moment was; it diminished soon enough; any sign of the spectacle lost as the colours paled and morning edged closer. Dean's drowsiness came back in the increasing warmth as fast as the beauty had disappeared and he closed his eyes. Gently he raked his fingers through Sam's hair; peach and crimson drifting into clear blue as he drifted back into an easy sleep.

This was why he was alive.

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**This was just a bit of a mini-drabble, so don't feel like you have to bother reviewing!**

**Thanks for sticking with me!**

**xxxxxx  
**


	5. Superego

**AT LAST!**

**Here is the first part of the next chapter - or the morning after. **

**Sorry it's taken so long, just I have exams!  
**

**I hope you like it :D**

**Also, a big thankyou to Crimson1 for just being wonderful and helping me out with this chapter and being lovely in general! x x**

**

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****Superego** (Another super(get it?) title from _necro omen13._ Thanks again x)

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Bright sunshine forced Dean to open his eyes. It was morning and hot as the day before.

He blinked hard, feeling the space where Sam had been, but no longer was. It felt strangely odd without his pressing weight against his chest. Yawning, he stretched out, back cracking; stiff from a night's sleep on hard, dry ground. He ran one hand lazily through his hair and opened his eyes fully, it suddenly dawning on him that he was practically naked, lying there in the sunlight. Grabbing his clothes, he hurried on his pants, frowning at the laughter he could hear from behind him. _Oh, so Sammy thought this was funny?_

Sam grinned, half listening to what the guy on the phone was saying and half watching Dean moodily get up and pull his t-shirt on over his head as he stalked over, scowling. "...No, sorry, I was... never mind. See you in thirty, thanks again Bill." Sam ended the call, snapping his cell shut. "Well Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." He beamed at his brother, trying in vain not to laugh at the dark look he was giving him.

"Yeah, funny. Hilarious." Dean glared up at his brother, straightening up automatically and scowling at how easily Sam towered over him. He chucked his shirt loosely over himself. Sniffing it, he raised an eyebrow. "Is this fresh?" he asked, smiling suddenly.

Sam smiled brilliantly back, his brown hair waving softly in the light breeze as he stood casually, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Dean rolled his eyes to himself. Surely Sam knew his hair was too damn long if it was able to goddamn _wave_. "Well, you got something on your old one last night..." Sam said, suddenly interested in a stain on his grubby hoodie.

"Oh yeah, right..." Dean smirked. "Thanks."

There was just a moment of silence and Dean felt himself almost unconsciously, drawn over to the spot where he and Sam had spent the night, hell, _slept_ together and in _both _senses of the word. He glared at the insignificant looking patch of dry grass; it looked so different in broad daylight; like it had just been a crazy, twisted dream. Seriously twisted. It would be weird, leaving this behind. But he wasn't sure how they would leave it though; was Sam going to try and talk it through or was it to be locked up and chained away and the key conveniently lost in the process? Somehow, neither option seemed particularly tempting to him.

He glanced over to Sam, grinning when he saw he'd been doing the same and even a little relieved. He stared down at his shoes. Maybe talking was inevitable but perhaps they could put it off for a while – the idea of just _forgetting _made Dean feel strangely strangled inside. Goddamn it! He hated all this nervous pushing and pulling between them, where the fuck did he stand? It was driving him out of his mind not to know, but at the same time he was glad that it was still left undecided – the way he felt with Sam the night before was so perfect it scared him half to death that he might have to come down and face his brother as well... just his brother. He clenched his fists in frustration – how did he even get into a situation as messed up as this? What kind of crazy spell had the siren cast on them now?

That caught him. The siren. This was nothing to do with that a-hole. Not on purpose at least. _True_ it had caused all the shit between them to come out but it had been building up for weeks and there's always a breaking point. Because of that, things were better than ever, like it used to be... well almost. That had to count for something?

"I might actually miss this place." Sam said, breaking the thick silence and turning to Dean. The look on his face said he'd had obviously been thinking it too; his eyes expressing a mixture of nostalgia and doubt. He watched his older brother glimpse back at the spot; it felt like forever since then and the unguarded love they shared was nothing more than a memory floating in the inconsequential fantasy world of night-time – the ghost of a dream. It had been wrong and wonderful and now it was time to step back into reality, like it had never really happened.

The thought made Sam's heart ache.

But did that mean they had to go back to the dark, painful silence from before? Sam gave a small, smile – no – that little part of them was fixed; their problems were still there, but they'd sort of talked them through. Nothing had changed about the huge task that lay ahead yet there was a new outlook for them both. They had each other again; Winchester and Winchester – as hazy as that night together was, they were going to remember it: it was pivotal.

He hadn't meant to, but while thinking, he'd let himself get lost in Dean's profile, the sun throwing his face into sharp relief and his lazy, effortless good looks catching Sam off guard. He held back a melancholy sigh; Dean's face was even more beautiful in the daylight. Freckles that the moon had missed were powdered across his fair skin and his lips had a subtle pink shine to them. Man, it was bad to want to kiss them.

An icy, daunting sensation prickled inside of him that spread outwards, filling him with stifling cold as it all dawned on him – the night may have been long gone but it had opened up a Pandora's Box of new feelings for Sam and they were not going to be suppressed easily. He shifted his weight restlessly; so many things had changed, yet somehow not one bit. He laughed darkly to himself – finding his older brother attractive though, was _definitely _new.

Dean looked back, knowing his reply was long overdue. He clocked Sam's gaze, unexpectedly catching the sad undercurrent of lust that ran behind his searching, hazel eyes; a look of pure thrill and fear shimmering there simultaneously.

"Yeah..." he mumbled almost incoherently, far too caught up in the intense way his brother was looking at him; bold and shameless and something that made him trip unprepared into the night before; back to darkness with Sam wrapped round him, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of his skin, his smell, his tears–

A gurgling rumble emitted from his stomach loudly and the spell was broken; their perverse staring contest and the oppressive tension between them disappearing in an instant as his brother chuckled, immediately transformed and masked back to the normal Sam in the second it took Dean to blink, glance away and look back.

He shook off his thoughts, completely disorientated by the whole damnsituation and determined to focus on the deep ache that had opened up inside of him instead, but his heart was still beating a little too fast. He gritted his teeth, exasperated; Sam was the freakin' girl, not him.

This was wrong, he told himself finally as clutched his stomach. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There was no place for this _thing_ they had going since every time Sam just _looked_ at him he felt himself unravel a little. He frowned. Maybe they were meant to lock it away for safety's sake; before he was just a pile of funny coloured string on the ground.

Blinking hard, he shoved those strange thoughts away into darkness. He had to be pretty hungry to be this delusional and shaky and just so not with it. He vowed to himself that as soon as they got anywhere near a diner they were stopping for a while, so he could get his head straight.

He looked up to his brother, trying to continue from before, "_Man_ I'm hungry. Please tell me that was someone who can tow my baby and get us out of here," he rubbed his poor empty belly absent-mindedly; amazed that Sam had somehow kept his composure – it was almost as if it had never happened, though how Sam had bounced back so easily was a mystery. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding; it was just too damn early in the morning to be dealing with this.

Sam felt his shoulders relax a little and he buried his hands deeper into his sweatshirt pockets, playing with his cell distractedly. This was all far too close for comfort and so damn unnerving. "Well, you're in luck; I found a couple of places online, but the nearest one was fine – it's like a family run thing... a bit like us. Anyway, this guy called Bill picked up and said he'd be happy to help." He jumped on Dean's cue eagerly; anything to keep the pretence up – rambling away information his brother didn't even need to know just to stop them falling. "So, he said he'll be here in a round thirty minutes with his tow truck and he'll drop us off at the nearest gas station."

"You hear that baby? We'll have you up and running in no time, how about that?" Dean interrupted, shouting over Sam's shoulder to the Impala.

Sam carried on, his heart still shuddering slightly, "_And_, when I told him we'd been here all night he said he'd bring us breakfast, free of charge."

"Oh, I am liking this 'Bill' already!" Dean clapped his hands together in delight, grinning that full-on, perfect smile carelessly right at Sam that made his insides warm involuntarily. He felt himself smile back huge before realising; his face falling and feeling frustrated.

A familiar urge bloomed inside of him, at last one he recognised... It was a deep rooted impulse – piss Dean off just because he could. It was something so old and ingrained that he slipped into it easily and he felt comfortable, finally. "Yeah... I'm sorry Dean – I told him we're on a tight schedule and we've lost enough time already, but thanks anyway. I thought we could just grab something later–"

Sam suppressed a grin as Dean took his bait, squaring up to him, eyes hard and serious as his free meal was jeopardized. "You're bluffing," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, I wish I was; I wish I was." He replied, holding his brother's sharp gaze.

"Sammy..."

"Look Dean, I'm sorry but he will have set off by now, there's no way–" The corner of Sam's mouth twitched upwards, unable to hide the smirk that Dean's sour look conjured from him. The rest of his words were lost as Dean lunged at him, seizing him in a frenzied headlock, "Not funny. Not _fucking _funny, Sammy. I haven't eaten in a day, you douche bag! It's not even funny to joke."

Sam choked, grabbing Dean's arms to try and loosen the grip he had round his neck, "I haven't either – Jesus, Dean!" He gasped, his words barely a whisper as they stifled in his throat. He hadn't meant his brother to go this crazy but then, he had asked for it, mentioning something as touchy as food with Dean running on an empty stomach. "Look I'm sorry, okay? Just loosen up please!"

Dean growled, but didn't let go. Sam sighed internally, resorting to hooking one foot around his brother's leg, tripping him over in an attempt to throw him off, just as Dean had tripped him over the night before when he'd been fooling around with kisses...

The thought was lost as his brother's hard weight landed on top of him and they began to grapple around in the dry grass, dust flying up in the air in great plumes as they rolled together, Sam on the defensive.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, "Stop, I'm sorry!"

"Shut-up, arsehole." Dean replied through gritted teeth; Sam was the one who had made this worse, tripping him up. He was asking for a fist fight really. He grabbed his brother's collar, swinging his arm out and growling again as Sam caught it mid-swing. He yanked his wrist free as they tumbled over again.

Sam was dominating, he realised grudgingly. It was taking more effort than usual, he was light headed from hunger and all this talk of food was just making it worse. So what if he'd heard Sam say he was sorry? This would teach him to joke about something as important as breakfast...

He threw out another fist when he'd steadied himself, only to have it stopped once again by his little brother – his _gargantuan_, little brother, though it had been half-hearted in itself. Gradually, his pace was slowing and his frantic rage also subsiding – but deep down something else kept him going when he would have stopped, angrily wrestling, limbs flailing, skin on skin... yet it just was revenge for a cruel joke, right? He repressed his doubt and flipped them both over, one hand fisted in Sam's long hair–

Then suddenly he was pinned underneath his brother and he was close, nose to nose with him, Sam's hot breath tickling his face as they panted together, their heaving chests moving in rhythm. His brother's green eyes glittered brightly; the same unashamed, piercing stare as before locking Dean's gaze and stopping him in his tracks.

Dean felt his mouth go dry; his heart hammering in his chest. He knew it was because he'd been fighting but he could tell that if he hadn't, it would still be thundering all the same. _Wrong, wrong, wrong, _he tried to repeat in his head but nothing in him was listening and rationality was losing. He'd never felt like this before; _nervous_ in this type of situation and it freaked him out, words melting in his mouth as a strange animal instinct took over along with his fear, making him throw his arms out in one last effort to escape. He winced as Sam caught them easily; having anticipated his attack and Dean was hopelessly trapped as his brother leaned in slowly.

Sam couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to. The way Dean felt; the warmth under him, the warmth in his hands; it all drew him inexorably nearer and he knew there was no point trying to ignore it anymore. Those eyes too, those fucking green eyes that skinned him, unwrapped him and then just stared at him in his metaphysical nakedness with a faint amused kind of interest were at last wide and darting, so alive and alarmed... His lips were open too, just a little, betraying him with their wanton, driving Sam crazy as he tried desperately to cling onto what was right and what _felt_ right.

"Sammy..." Dean managed to murmur out. _Wrong... wrong... wrong_ he struggled to repeat, a cold chill of apprehension shivering down his back as Sam's head blocked the out the sun, the outline of his hair glowing fiery red. His eyes were huge and his pupils dilated; he looked possessed, but beautifully so; possessed by something so human – lust.

A small voice appeared inside his head, blocking out the rest. _Or love_, it whispered as his brother's lips pressed against his in a chaste kiss, pulling away after just a second, Dean's mouth burning as if his blood had boiled under the skin at his touch; like Sam had branded him, claimed as his. He suppressed a shudder; absolute understanding washing over him as if his vision had just clicked into perfect focus – he had always been Sam's since the moment he was born. The realisation alone overwhelmed him and panic set in, closing his throat up– But Sam's eyes loomed into view again: larger, closer... disabling Dean once again with their damn pleading, puppy-dog stare.

Sam was terrified, frozen over his tense brother; he could see the conflict going on behind Dean's eyes and knew he'd broken some sort of unspoken agreement between them. He desperately tried to rationalise in his favour – Dean had wanted it; they'd both wanted it last night and things like that just didn't disappear, even if it had transformed into civility–

Dean relaxed beneath him and his hands in Sam's slackened – resigned permission. He leant closer but stopped an inch away from Dean's lips; it was like he'd forced him and it felt wrong.

"I'm sorry," he said, about to move away–

Dean rolled his eyes; Sam was _definitely_ the girl out of the two of them. What was wrong with him? Dean had given into his demons at last and _now_ Sam was freaked out about his damn consent? He shook his head in disbelief and reached up, kissing Sam long and hard; entwining their fingers together and feeling the same fire between their lips as before. There was no use trying to deny it anymore, it was breath taking and perfect and felt safe.

Sam's whole body loosened, seeming to sink into his brother's: It was all coming back for Dean then, like one big head rush – an acid trip; the amazing feeling of his brother over him, surrounding him, hiding him under his great warm weight, a thousand times better than he'd remembered.

Sam pressed deeper into Dean's mouth, craving his lips and the softness behind them. He released his brother's hands, instead running his own through Dean's hair and cupping his face. Surprisingly gentle fingers ran over his cheeks and he shivered as a hand slipped under his shirt, teeth nibbling playfully at his lower lip. The feel of Dean's skin was like a catalyst, sparking the memoires of him against him and them together as one and he let his eyes close for a moment in bliss before pulling away. Sliding a hand through Dean's hair he wished he could stay like this forever. He would never reach heaven, but this was as close as he could get.

"You sure about this?" he asked, grinning smugly at Dean's almost frustrated look but not so self-assured inside – his brother's eyes were running him through with a poker-hot stare that made him want to gnash his teeth and run away and hide and bounce up and down. Of course a second, deeper, more overriding instinct just made him want to kiss Dean until that look melted. So he thrummed heavily in the back of his throat and hovered over his brother's inflamed lips, begging for a quick, affirming answer.

"You're a fucking tease, Sammy," Dean replied, his eyes narrowing but still trained on every angle of his brother's face. His heart was thumping stupidly and he recognised with a shiver of unease that his second skin of nonchalance was peeling off uncontrollably. He wondered if Sam could feel his erratic pulse through his chest and if he knew that it was his surprising lack of restraint that was undoing Dean hopelessly right there in front of him. He reached up and knotted a hand in Sam's hair, leering. "Was that not sure enough for you? 'Cause if not, I'll be doing something highly indecent to you right here, in broad daylight to convince you."

Sam smirked back, lips poised agonisingly close before they both froze, glancing around. Dean felt his stomach bottom out. They were already doing something _pretty _indecent by most people's standards right next to a road.

Dean knew it was right, but nevertheless, every pore in his body screamed in protest and he stifled a groan as Sam lifted up off him. He tried to placate himself with the fact that Sam looked as torn up as he felt yet their distance was fucking _unbearable_!

"Wait," he half growled as his brother kneeled; grabbing him by the collar and pulling him roughly down on top of him once more and crushing their mouths together. He kissed him fiercely, deep and almost painfully before pushing him up again. "Okay, _now_ you can go." He said trying to act dismissive, though unable to hide the breathy edge to his voice.

Sam loomed over his brother, wondering dazedly if it was dangerous to be smiling as hard as he was, unsure if he risked cracking his face in two. He drew himself away and stood up reluctantly, his face falling as he realised that that really was the beginning of the end of their night. Situations and circumstances would slowly be pulled up between them like barriers until what they had was lost and this nondescript piece of roadside, their parallel universe was to be left behind and forgotten.

He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat painful. He caught his brother's questioning gaze and let a half-hearted smile soften his features – these fifteen or so minutes were going to count and demon blood could take a back seat for once.

Dean stared up at Sam and didn't like the look he was giving him; it was too poignant and his gut squirmed apprehensively – their facade was fading. "Sammy..." he asked in a low voice, hating the tone of desperation he heard in it and feeling strangely cowed under his brother's towering frame and intense gaze.

Then he was being dragged along; unusually passive and calm and eyes closed from the sun's glare until his back touched familiar metal.

"What are you– oh," Dean blinked back his sight and understood. He smiled bemused at his brother, "Well I guess that's one way of doing it."

His back was against the side of his baby and Sam was next to him, one arm stretched out; his thumb absently tracing Dean's jaw and leaving a tingling path behind. The road was behind them and they were concealed by the large frame of Impala – hidden from reality for a bit longer.

Chuckling, Dean exhaled, shoulder's slumping in relief. "_Je_sus Sammy, don't look so damn sad. You almost gave me a heart attack with that miserable face you're pulling. I almost thought..." he petered out into nothing and turned away; cursing himself silently as Sam's smirk widened in his periphery. He would never hear the end of this.

Sam blinked and gawped at his brother in poorly disguised awe. Dean was never accidently or casually vulnerable and anything he did mean with sincerity was grunted and then followed up by a sarcastic joke. _"No chick flick moments." _was one of his brother's rules and apart from last night, which hardly counted regarding the situation, he did not break it lightly. He smiled in disbelief; Dean was afraid that Sam didn't want him.

"Wait, did you think that–"

"Shut up."

Sam persisted. "That I was going to say–"

"Shut up!"

"That this was over?" Sam grinned huge as Dean lost it, confirming his suspicions.

"I said, SHUT UP!" He yelled through gritted teeth, grabbing Sam by the shirtfront, his nose pressed angrily against his brother's. There was a moment of thick, seething silence before Sam leaned into Dean automatically; studying his chagrined expression – eyes set hard and jaw working furiously –trying his best to commit such a look to memory. He gently reached in and cupped Dean's reddened cheek, their lips almost touching and he nodded mock-pensively at him. "Hey, it's okay to feel scared; I know there's a sensitive side to you hidden under that tough-guy act–"

"Actually _fuck _you." Dean hissed, shoving Sam off him roughly. He sulked into the floor; shaking his head and muttering curses under his breath.

Sam bit back a grin and shifted closer to his brother. "I'm sorry Dean, I was joking. Hey, I'm sorry." Dean ignored him. "That's it; I'm resorting to quoting you – Happy now?" He bent in closer to his older brother's brooding profile, "You're so easy to bug, _Dean_. You know I don't mean it,'" he cited in an incredulous voice and a muscle in his brother's cheek clenched but he continued to ignore him. Sam rolled his eyes and reach out like before, lazily running his fingers along his bristled jaw–

Dean's eyes narrowed and he snatched Sam's hand away. "No fuck you, Sammy," he scowled sourly but didn't let go of his brother's arm. Sam sighed and pouted, turning on the full force of his puppy-dog stare that Dean was so useless at trying to overlook.

"And _that's _not fair," Dean frowned, his green eyes flickering in annoyance. Sam leant in slowly, attempting to bite his lip anxiously.

"Bitch." Dean said, closing his eyes and huffing in resignation. Grudgingly, he gave in and kissed Sam; he honestly had no idea how his little brother did it.

"Jerk." He replied; his mouth half-on Dean's and the vibrations tingling his lips. Dean smiled, letting his hands twist soft brown hair haphazardly around his fingers as Sam pressed deeper and slid an arm around his neck.

He worked it out then, as his brother's lips brushed his own and he disappeared in a haze of heat and skin and wetness – kissing Sam was just like kissing a girl when she had flavoured lip stuff on, and he'd aim to lick her lips clean. The only thing different with his brother was that he tasted a thousand times better than any strawberry chap stick and as much as he tried; licking, sucking, wiping with his tongue, it just didn't come off.

Reality drifted back as he felt Sam's lips leave his, instead trailing along his jaw and nipping his way along. Sam's teeth sunk into his neck and Dean grinned light-headedly, trying in vain to steady his breathing and gain control.

"Sam...?" He choked out hoarsely, biting his tongue in vexation when his brother's mouth pulled away from his fevered skin. Sam lifted his head up and pressed the side of his nose flat against Dean's; dilated eyes and inflamed lips so tantalisingly close that it was not helping at all...

"Mmm-hm?" He hummed so casually that Dean had to blink several times to remain focused.

"it's just..." he hated having to say this. "We're not exactly concentrating and well, Bill will be here soon and–"

"You're saying that maybe we should stop since he might see and freak out at us." Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm just worried about my baby. He might freak out at _her_," he patted the side of the Impala tenderly, "and I am not getting her involved in this anymore than you already have. I mean honestly, Sammy, using her as a barrier between our weird stuff and the real world? That's low – even for you."

He expected a scowl or a sarcastic laugh but instead Sam recoiled from him, looking hurt.

"You think this – what we have, is weird?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Dean suddenly understood and gave an exasperated sigh, "Oh come on, Sammy – give me one word that describes this better."

Sam paused. "Yeah okay, I guess," he pursed his lips.

Dean grabbed Sam's chin and stared him hard in the eye, "Please don't look at me like that. We're not exactly normal are we? We're outsiders – I'm just as much of a freak as you are."

"Yeah, I doubt that." Sam gave a hollow smile.

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**There is the end of the first half :D Hope you liked it!**

**Reviews are needed because I'm thinking I did a bit of a rubbish job really, like not up to the other chapters' standards... so please! x  
**

**Also - IMPORTANT: I need a chapter title! I had one idea that was "Spellbound" but I'm not that keen. Anyone got a better one?**

**Stay tuned!  
**

**Rose xxx  
**


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